


A Merry Little Christmas

by prettiest-vulcan (LydiaMoonbeam)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, spock and jim celebrating christmas with blowjobs, what more could one ask for?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:31:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaMoonbeam/pseuds/prettiest-vulcan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first Christmas as a couple doesn’t quite go like Jim had thought it would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Merry Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a little Christmas treat and it was supposed to be some harmless PWP, but it didn't work out that way. Somehow, a bit (okay, a lot) or plot worked its way in, but at least you still get blowjobs.

When Jim first started entertaining the idea of what a Christmas with Spock would entail, he imagined a whole lot of nothing. Christmas is a Terran religious holiday, which has been commercialized by large corporations, he imagined Spock would say. Or perhaps something more along the lines of: it would be illogical for me to celebrate a Christian holiday, Jim, as I am Vulcan. Something that would surely crush all of Jim’s hopes and dreams about spending a romantic holiday with his Vulcan. So Jim merely tries not to think about what Christmas with Spock would be like because that way lay disappointment.

Jim had never really liked Christmas anyway. As a kid, it had always been a time when his mother would drink too much and talk about his father before crying herself to sleep. Then, with Frank, it had been because his mother was never home, but there was still alcohol and a lot of hurt involved. The hurting was mainly on his part. At least until he was big enough to defend himself.

Still, Jim will admit that there is something romantic about the idea of spending the holiday season with Spock. He guesses they sort of already are, since they’re both on the Enterprise and spend the majority of their free time together. However, it lacks Christmas spirit; it’s just them spending time together, like they always do. Which is awesome, of course, but it would be even better if he could get Spock drunk on hot cocoa while he sipped his beverage of choice. (Usually whiskey, but on occasion he would indulge in a good glass of wine.) Then they could recount stories of their childhood in front of a simulated fireplace before going to bed, where Jim would convince Spock to indulge in a bit of slow lovemaking (and then hope Spock wouldn’t remember Jim using the word “lovemaking” in the morning).

As it is, the month of December just kind of slowly ticks away, until it’s a week before Christmas and neither Spock nor Jim has mentioned plans for the holiday. Seeing as they’re hurtling through space at Warp 7, it’s kind of hard to make any plans that don’t involve synthesized dinners and games of chess. Even the rest of the ship looks more festive than Jim feels. Someone has set up a large tree in Conference Room Three, with a slightly smaller one in the mess hall. There’s tinsel pinned up along the hallways, in golds and greens and reds. He even got himself stuck underneath the mistletoe with Spock, once, but the Vulcan had appeared clueless. He had merely brushed by Jim before inquiring as to why Jim suddenly appeared disappointed.

"Uhura, did you and Spock ever celebrate Christmas together?" He finds himself asking his communications officer over lunch one day. Spock is in the sensor labs, so there’s no worry of being overheard.

"Yes," Uhura answers. She seems confused by the question. "He’s kind of big on the holiday, actually. His mother used to celebrate it every year."

"Spock hasn’t mentioned anything," Jim admits. "About Christmas. Or anything, really. He’s been quiet lately."

"It’s barely been a year since his mother’s death," Uhura reasons. "The holiday likely reminds him of her. Maybe it’s still too painful for him. Broken bonds are often like open wounds."

"Maybe." But the thing is, Spock doesn’t seem to mind any of the Christmas festivities happening around him. He seems almost nostalgic, most of the time. He only closes off when Jim is around, which doesn’t make any sense because Jim’s not going to make fun of him for liking Christmas.

So he just tries to ignore it, even as the week creeps to an end and Christmas is finally upon them. Jim gives the crew the day off, but reminds them that they should still be alert: they’re still in Federation space, but anything can happen. Christmas Day still finds Jim on the bridge, checking to make sure their course is steady in an excuse to avoid his and Spock’s quarters. He’d left early that morning, Spock (surprisingly) still asleep despite it being nearly eight. He’d eaten breakfast, sort of wandered the ship for a bit, before deciding to find something useful to do.

Eventually, he has no more reason to be wandering the ship. It’s barely two in the afternoon, but already people are celebrating. The rec rooms are full up of people and food and general good Christmas cheer. Jim feels like Scrooge, or possibly the Grinch, for wishing they’d tone it down a little. He’s not jealous; he’s just disappointed that no one thought to invite their Captain.

Being the Captain of Starfleet’s flagship, he absolutely does not drag his feet and pout all the way back to his quarters. He walks in a dignified manner and does not dread walking into his empty quarters. Spock’s probably in the labs, working on some new project, so Jim doesn’t expect his company. Jim thinks back to all the Christmases he’s had and realizes that none one of them was spent alone. He wonders if that will become a thing, spending Christmas alone as he grows old and bitter because no one invited him to their party.

So he is absolutely not pouting when he walks into his quarters and then immediately walks back out when everything is lit up with Christmas lights. He checks and then double-checks the room number, even going so far as to ask the computer whose room this is, before asking it who put up all the decorations. Did he do this in his sleep or something? Maybe he’s hallucinating.

"Commander Spock," the computer answers in a droll voice in response to his question about the decorator. Spock did all this? Where did he even get the time, the decorations?

"Where is Commander Spock now?" Jim hopes the answer is not ‘sulking in his quarters, Captain’ because that is not something Jim is prepared to handle.

"Commander Spock is located inside the Captain’s quarters." Which is a slightly better answer, but also means he was likely witness to Jim’s utter confusion. This time when he walks into the room, he tries not to look so surprised.

Whoa, Jim thinks as he looks around. Spock certainly didn’t skimp on the decorations. There’s silver tinsel wrapped around the room, followed by hanging white Christmas lights. There’s a miniature tree on top of the chessboard, strung with tiny lights and ornaments. The mini star on top blinks with gold-white light. The room is warmer than it usually is and, coupled with the scents of nutmeg and cinnamon, it makes the room seem cozy.

"Jim," Spock greets and his eye’s are drawn towards the bed. Spock hasn’t changed out of his pajamas, or perhaps recently put them back on. Jim is going to go with the first idea because his hair is still in disarray, the odd piece sticking up here and there. Which means that he’d started decorating the moment he got up and then had prepared himself to wait for Jim’s arrival.

"I can’t believe you did all this." He’s truly awed by all of it, including the fact Spock had spent his day decorating Jim’s quarters. "Were you planning this the whole time?"

"If you are dissatisfied—”

"Dissatisfied? Spock!" Jim laughs. "I’m amazed. I thought you didn’t celebrate Christmas and then, after asking Uhura about it, thought you didn’t want to celebrate because of personal reasons."

"It was necessary to give you the wrong impression so that I could organize today’s events." Events? Just what does Spock have planned for them? Jim wonders if he’s actually vibrating from the happiness and excitement buzzing inside of him. "However, I must apologize if I lead you to believe that I did not wish to celebrate Christmas with you, in particular. I am aware that you found me contemplating decorations on several occasions; thus, it was necessary to remove myself so that you did not question me."

"So you merely pretended that you had no idea about the mistletoe?"

"Indeed."

"You sneaky little Vulcan," Jim chuckles. Spock stands from the bed, moving towards Jim, before stopping just a few centimeters short of touching. Then, he raises his arm above their heads and Jim looks up in confusion.

"Jim," Spock’s voice is practically a purr. "I believe we are caught beneath the mistletoe." Jim grins, grabbing Spock by his shirt to pull him in for a kiss.

"I can’t believe you," Jim mumbles against Spock’s lips before kissing him again. "You’re such a sap."

"I fail to see how my actions would lead you to such a conclusion." Jim smiles into their kiss.

"Of course you don’t." Jim seals their mouths together once more, intent on thanking Spock in a much more physical manner. Spock voices very little protest, other than to suggest they move to the bed.

The smell of cinnamon is stronger near the bed and Jim takes a cursory glance around the sleeping alcove to find its source. There’s incense burning on the low stand, right next to a perfectly wrapped gift. Jim would feel guilty about not getting Spock anything, but he has a feeling the gift is something they’ll both appreciate. Even so, Jim vows that he’ll get something big for Spock to make up for it.

"Do you wish to open your gift now?" Spock questions, leaning back on his elbows from where Jim pushed him down onto the mattress. His hair is even more askew, his face flushed a delicate green. His legs are spread, a sliver of skin exposed by the way his sleep shirt has risen up the slightest bit. Jim licks his lips, looking up at Spock’s face as he lowers himself to the floor. He settles as comfortably as he can on his knees, scooting forward so that he’s between Spock’s legs.

"Yeah," Jim answers, tugging down Spock’s waistband. "I think I’ll unwrap my present now." When Spock’s cock is free, Jim wraps his hand around it and strokes lightly.

"Jim, although I am flattered, I am not your gift."

"You’re the only thing I want for Christmas." Now who’s the sap, Spock’s eyebrow seems to say. It also says: that was the worst come on I have ever heard, but i’m strangely turned on by it. "Oh, shut up," he grumbles before pressing his thumb to the underside of Spock’s cock, against the prominent vein there.

"Jim." Spock’s voice squeaks only slightly. "If you are not going to open your gift now, then please proceed with your other actions." Jim rolls his eyes, but leans down to lick a wet stripe up the vein his thumb was pressed to moments before. Spock twitches in his grasp, practically begging for Jim’s mouth. It’s Christmas and Spock did all of this for him, so he can lay off the teasing for at least an hour. After that, no promises.

The thick, double ridges are always odd at first. They press past his lips, two little slopes instead of one, and it threw Jim off when he’d first seen Spock’s dick. Now, however, he’s mostly gotten used to them. Is kind of fond of them when they’re pressed inside of him, stretching him wide. He laps lightly at the head, gathering the semi-sweet fluid gathered there. Which was another difference between humans and Vulcans, it seemed; the taste of their semen.

"Jim," Spock grits out. "Please stop cataloging the differences in our genitalia. As you have performed fellatio on my person on multiple occasion, there should be no more mystery to it." Which is basically Spock-speak for stop stalling and suck me already. Jim is never one to deny someone their own pleasure. (And it certainly brings Jim pleasure to see Spock come so undone from his mouth alone.)

The double ridges are wonderful, certainly, but Spock’s cock in general is wonderful. It’s rather thick, perhaps, but Jim has had bigger. It fills his mouth, stretches his lips wide, and weighs perfectly on his tongue. The vein on the underside pulses against his tongue, the tip producing more and more of that sweet fluid the longer Jim sucks and strokes and tongues at those lovely ridges.

And Spock is even more wonderful. Face flushed, lips parted and swollen as he gives little gasping groans. It’s like each noise is pulled from him unwillingly, each one a pleasant surprise. He often wonders if Spock is embarrassed by the noises he makes, some idea that Vulcans should be stoic and silent even in this. Jim doubts that even Vulcans are able to keep quiet when in this kind of situation. If they can, Jim commends them for their excellent control.

Spock’s fingers run through his hair, pulling and tugging and urging Jim to speed up, slow down, oh, more Jim, please, please, and then merely holding as he spills down Jim’s throat. Spock always goes completely still when he comes, as if even that is a surprise, before making the smallest little noise and going completely boneless. Jim leans back, wiping the spit and come from his mouth, and moves only when Spock pulls him up.

They kiss, slow and sweet, despite the fact that Jim’s mouth must be repulsive to Spock because it tastes like semen. Spock never says anything in the quiet moments after orgasm, merely runs his fingers over Jim’s face and kisses him softly. Perhaps that says it all, Jim thinks. Maybe, for Spock, this little bit of tenderness, of emotion, means everything to Spock.

"Merry Christmas," Spock whispers into the space between their mouths. He’s cradling Jim’s face, fingers lingering over his meld points, before skittering away just as quickly.

"Merry Christmas, Spock."

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another cross post from my tumblr (http://prettiest-vulcan.tumblr.com/post/71128807969/a-merry-little-christmas).


End file.
